My Rooh’s Life

“My Rooh’s Life” is one of the outstanding stories of the first biannual International Short Story Contest 2018 written by Malavika Pradeep, JSS International, Dubai, UAE.

My Rooh’s Life

“There’s nothing worse than the dreadful!. It is either an accident or a suicide that just interchanges and occurs from time to time” said some common men.

These lines invoked him and he kept getting disturbed each time when he was addressed this way. He waited for me as I looked at a girl with shiny black hair, brown eyes and a pale face on the reflecting surface in front of me. She looked puerile and like someone who would fall prey to their emotions.

She saw in black and white, thought in grey but loved each soul in colours. The sky seems to tumble over the clouds and the glinting rays of the Sun was obscured. Surely, it was a sign of winter playing his role. We both sat by the Couldroy beach where my father took me when I was his little darling.

He looked at me and said, “Feel this moment, feel the fragrance of the wind, listen to the songs of this unique choir of waves and embrace your soul with the energy you receive from here”. He continued, “Dear, each grain of sand has a story, some gets crushed, some gets washed away and others are still exploring”. A myriad of thoughts flashed by me.

We waved back to the beach and went to the woods. There, the trees sang for the scrubs and thorns swayed with all the other wild herbs. He looked at me and exclaimed, this is where your parents took their last breath. Their souls can feel our presence, so don’t cry and instead celebrate the moment.

He took me to gaze at the stars, the serene sunset and many more and slowly the light began to fade.

All I heard was his voice, “darkness and death are not evil, there is always another side to it. It is because of darkness that the stars twinkle and moon shows his handsome appearance.

He took me to all the places I loved but now it was time to go with him and this was a wakeup call for me to go with him, my soul’s companion, Death. Look, how wonderful death is!

He looked like one pale yonder waning moon with lips of lurid blue with distressing expressions but it is him, death, who let me fly back to life and relive those moments till the sun rose again. There was a time, when I was about to go on stage and everyone was silent.

None said anything and I was about to go up to make my graduation speech but as I went up the stairs, felt a hand.no.. a finger... a touch .. I looked back... and there... down the stairs... I saw nothing but felt that wind.

I was distressed because of the sudden death of my uncle, but as I submerged my head into the pillow heard... the sound of the same wind. Every where I walked those footprints recreated the same steps and I felt the voice. I was breathing and after each of my breath I heard another one with mine.

The voice.. the feel... the hug... the touch.... the courage… the fire ... the blanket... the inner self of mine.

Was it god? His breath being my life, his fingers being my shelter and his warmth being my soul.

I never knew what.. who. why... but always understood that I had a back to lie on a shoulder to cry on... a lap to sit on... a chest to sleep on...

Was it someone I knew? I don’t know. .. I didn’t know anything. until I saw that unknown beauty and my eyes couldn’t believe what they saw. It was my reflection... that followed. that helped. that loved... me ... and my reflection. was the most beautiful thing that had ever happened to me.... my reflection looked after me like a mother, loved me like his daughter and played with me like a brother. Did anyone know the story of this reflection? did my reflection live the way it wanted? I don’t know. My reflection.... gave its whole mind n body to all who needed. None were there in some stages of its life it carried on with strength. It met many souls and all those souls enlightened it. This reflection got immense blessing all throughout its journey.

Finally, after a long time... my reflection came back to me and then i realized that this reflection was my unknown rooh....

a rooh who had dreams...a rooh who have so much in her...

and this rooh was and is my rooh … my reflection.

Now, tell me is death, my rooh still a tragedy?